


Mon amour, Mon ami

by s1nn3r



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Idiots in Love, Inspired Work, M/M, fuck agnst all my homies hate agnst, go read it now i swear, he can only actually say spaghetti though, im late to the party, only small mentions of wilson webber and maxwell but i ptu the tags in there anyway, pure fluff, refereces to "Toi et Moi" by EmiAlvi, selectively mute wes, there is not enough of these two in the fandom and that's a strike against GOD, these are a lot of tags, warly and wes are both french cant change my mind, well warly isnt but he knows how to recognize the language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1nn3r/pseuds/s1nn3r
Summary: Wes and Warly go on a mining spree in the grassy planes, but with night quickly approaching they're left to set up camp together away from the rest of the group.Oh, and Wes speaks.
Relationships: Warly/Wes (Don't Starve)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Mon amour, Mon ami

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Toi et Moi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028366) by [EmiAlvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiAlvi/pseuds/EmiAlvi). 



> HERE WE GO FUCKERS SORRY IM A SLUT FOR THESE TWO
> 
> tryna work on making chapters longer sorryyy god

The only sound that could be heard nearby was the seemingly never-ending clattering and smashing of pickaxes against ores. Gold, iron, nitre and even flint practically flew through the air as the two worked non-stop. Wes and Warly had decided to set off on a 'small' mining trip, provided the group was extremely low on minerals and Wilson was throwing a fit over not having any gold for "scientific purposes". They had gone on since noon, and had hardly noticed the distance traveled from the group's campsite, nor did they consider how quickly the sun was setting under the horizon. It was a beautiful sight for now, and Warly couldn't help but occasionally stare at the sweeps of warm yet vibrant colors that were painted along the sky. Nature could be a real work of art sometimes, even in a place as hellish as the constant, where frogs will rain down from the sky and pigs co-exist and speak alongside you. Despite the marvelous view, War knew it wouldn't last, it would be dark soon and the blanket of danger would rest over the constant until the next morning. 

He looked to his side to see Wes finishing off a smaller cluster of gold with a sturdy iron pickaxe, giving a small wave to get his attention. He had gotten used to simply using motions or brief sentences around the mime since normal communication proved a bit useless when the other was apparently mute, however he figured out that the mime knew French, so he assumed it wasn't a life-long thing the mime suffered with. It was nice, having someone who also knew a language he himself loved, and he sure did miss his time and the wonderful views in France.

Even if he only knew how to ask if someone liked spaghetti in the language.

When the mime realized he was being 'called', he halted his activity and picked up what material he did gather and waltzed over rather comically, taking big and exaggerated steps that War couldn't help but laugh at. Once Wes was near, he gestured to the sky and then the trees in a nearby forest. Wes, following the other's fingers, quickly realized what the other was asking of him, and quickly took an iron axe from his bag and ran off into the forest. Hoping Wes would be back in time to prepare a fire wasn't that much of a worry, he knew while Wes wasn't the strongest, he proved to be the most reliable and focused of the entire group. Warly fixed the long fly-aways that had fallen from the tight bun he had put his hair in, probably loosened from the constant shifting and mining he was doing all day. He quickly crafted a few grass mats so they could turn in for the night before setting a bag he primarily used for his culinary items in the grass. He scanned the contents quickly and decided he would cook the remaining morsels in the near bottom of the chilled bag, figuring it'd be enough for the two of them. As he looked at the spices he had brought along, he noticed a familiar spice he happily took out of the bag and set out for later use. It wasn't anything special, hell, he didn't even know what it was since the plants and herbs in the constant weren't exactly what he was used to working with. But, he remembers the first time Warly had used the mixture, it was a late night and he decided to be generous and cook dinner for the entire group since they had an over abundance of gobbler legs in the cooler. When Wes took the first bite of the leg, the way his face lit up always stuck with War. Everyone loved his cooking and voiced such, and it's not that he wasn't confident in his abilities, but knowing that Wes shared the verdict and seeing it for himself felt.. different. 

It was always strange to Warly, he had never considered himself close to any of the camp members and he even disliked a couple of them. Specifically, he had a near impossible time trusting Maxwell and had still struggled with the fact the others accepted him into the group, and due to his crippling arachnophobia, he had a hard time around Webber. He was a good kid, it's just that War couldn't take the fact he was almost all spider, it freaked him out a bit to much. But, he would've never expected butterflies to form in his chest around Wes out of all people. He didn't necessarily know why, but whenever he and the other 'spoke' (mainly warly speaking to wes), or even went on simple trips to gather resources, he felt a sense of calm with the mime. He practically melted whenever he heard the other laugh, something that rarely happened around the others, but seemed to occur with himself frequently. It made him feel special to be able to humor the other, to hear their sweet giggling, which was as close to hearing him speak as he'd ever gotten. 

As he picked his head up, he noticed Wes coming back with an impressive amount of logs for such a short amount of time, giving the mime a small smile as he chucked the logs down and forming a small firepit. It wasn't long before Wes was nursing an increasingly growing flame, tossing a few tuffs of grass to assist the spread before sitting back, enjoying the warmth now provided. Warly smiled appreciatively at the other, soon setting up a crockpot atop the flame and tossing the seasoned morsels in directly after. Soon joining the mime's side, the sun fully set and the dark showered upon them both, the only light around them being the dimly lit stars and fire in front of them. Warly tapped Wes on the shoulder and pointed up to a constellation he recognized almost immediately. 

" Do you see that cluster of stars over there? " he asked the mime, receiving a nod in response.

" The big and little dipper. Always has been my favorite constellation. " he added on.

He wasn't very well-informed on astrology or stars in general, but he was able to recognize the small and big dipper considering they were always nearby. Wes stared up at the sky with a small smile playing his face, seeming to doze off in wonder at the sight. Warly watched him for a bit, but his gaze soon went to the other's mouth. Warly could feel his breath audibly hitch as the thought of what those soft, black-painted lips would feel like against his own, what it'd be like to tangle his hands in that raven hair of his.. it was a place his mind had absolutely no right being in, but he genuinely couldn't help himself as he stared at the beautiful male next to him. 

He quickly stood up, trying to rid of the tantalizing thoughts as he went over to check on the meat, luckily for him it was cooked to the perfect temperature to serve and that fact gave him somewhat of an excuse to keep from the mime. He let out a small sigh, taking out a carved wooden tray he often substituted as a plate and setting one of the morsels on it. When he approached Wes, the other starred up at him with a gaze of slight confusion. " I made enough for both of us, don't worry. Your favorite, too. " He said with a generous smile, watching as the other suddenly beamed at him and took the wooden plate from Warly. The chef couldn't help but flush as he turned away from the mime, huffing rather tiredly at how "school boy" he was acting. He walked over to the crockpot, going to fetch himself the other morsel he had prepared before something pierced the quiet night atmosphere. 

" Merci, mon amour. " came a voice from behind him. 

Warly froze in his tracks, literally dropping the morsel he had picked with a custom-made wooden fork. Was that- He turned back to Wes, seeing the other tearing into the morsel as if he'd never eaten in his life. Warly blinked in confusion, turning back to the crockpot. 'Thanks, love'? He repeated the words in his mind, the flush on his face becoming all the more prominent. He was almost sure that he had imagined or even hallucinated the sound. The garland adorning his head was running low on it's life-span after all, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He simply stood like that for a bit, questioning what he heard as the other soon finished the meal provided for him. Wes stood behind the seemingly frozen other, blinking a bit as he walked to his side. Whilst Warly was in what seemed to be a trance, he felt a certain heat on his cheek. Though, this wasn't from his stupid lovestruck blushing, Wes was kissing his cheek. He just stood there, completely dumbfounded as the other mumbled a small " Goodnight, cheri. " before walking over to one of the grassy mats to turn in for the night. Warly continued to stand there, the now burning meat in the crockpot long forgotten as his hand grazed over his own cheek. He brought his hand back down only to see smudged black lipstick on his fingertips. 

He wasn't imagining it, was he?

**Author's Note:**

> im not sorry bye hope you enjoyed comments and kudos are always appreciated


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